“Want some coffee?” she asked as she let him in the door.
“You have decaf?”
“No.”
“I’d better not then. I get jittery.”
“How about some warm milk?” She flicked on the hallway light, then the kitchen light.
“Are you making fun of me?”
“Possibly. But you’re such an easy target, I should stop.”
He gave her a look she couldn’t decipher, and she decided she’d better quit being a smart-ass.
Having proven herself on Christmas Eve completely inept at using the kitchen for its original intended purpose, she saw no reason not to find a new use for the space.
“Are you a dessert man?”
“I can be tempted by the right thing,” he said, his breath tickling her cheek. “I like pie.”
“What kind of pie?”
“Cherry’s my favorite.”
She leaned in and placed a kiss on the side of his neck, then pulled back. “No cherries here.”
“What do you have?” he asked as his gaze traveled between her eyes and her mouth.
“Some leftover sweet potato pie, but I made it, so it tastes kind of awful.”
“I’ve tasted your cooking—it’s not bad.”
“You’ve tasted my finger. My dinner party, however, was a disaster. I burned almost everything except the stuff that didn’t need to be cooked, and that stuff I managed to screw up in other ways.”
“Some women’s talents are best revealed outside the kitchen.” He ran his finger along the neckline of her sweater, then down and around the outside of her breast, sending a chill through her.
“I’ve got talents that can be demonstrated in the kitchen—just not the traditional kind,” she said as she edged her hand up his inner thigh, stopping just short of his crotch.
“Care to show me?”
“I was hoping to serve you something sweet, though. I did invite you for dessert, after all.” She bit her lip, trying to think of anything she had in the apartment that wasn’t burned or stale.
“I thought that was just your excuse to get me up here and have your way with me,” he said, smiling.
“It was both, but I don’t like to make empty promises.”
“I’ll forgive you.”
“I’ve got some flavored coffee syrups. You can at least have something sweet in your coffee.”
“I like my coffee straight, no frou-frou stuff.”
“Me too. The syrups were a Christmas gift…. But maybe we could find some other use for them.”
“What kind of use do you have in mind?”
“Definitely not what the manufacturer intended.”
“Sounds like my kind of dessert.”
Was she really have this conversation with this man? This man who’d spent the evening making her mostly forget to have an attitude? This man whose atrocious fashion sense and inability to dance hadn’t done a thing to dampen her desire for him?
She needed to stay focused, keep her mind on the fact that this was sex for sex’s sake, not getting-to-know-you sex, or let’s-be-intimate sex, or promise-of-something-more sex. It was just plain, opportunistic sex.
“Wait a second,” she said, then went in search of the box she’d gotten.
In the pantry, there it sat with a bow still stuck on it, a gift box of four flavored syrups. She grabbed it and tore open the packaging, then placed each bottle on the counter next to Drew.
“French vanilla, mint chocolate, hazelnut and raspberry. Which one do you want to try first.”
“Honestly, I don’t want any coffee.”
“I don’t mean in coffee. I mean, try on me.”
“Try on you?”
“On me,” she said, tugging her sweater over her head, getting down to business before he could do anything else sweet and disarming.
Underneath her sweater, she wore a purple-and-black lace bra that she absolutely was not going to taint with flavored syrup. She reached behind her back and unfastened the clasp, then let the bra fall to the floor.
Drew’s gaze was fixed on her bare chest now, his mouth slightly agape. “I’m sure you taste fine without syrup,” he said, sounding distracted.
“I do, but that’s beside the point.” She unzipped her skirt and slid it down her hips, taking her time, wriggling around enough to put on a proper strip show.
Now there were just her boots and her panties, which had matched her bra but which were also pointless in the face of flavored syrups. She hooked her thumbs on each side and slowly tugged them off an inch at a time. The boots could stay. They might not have been practical, but they were great for effect.
Drew’s gaze had dropped lower, was pinned now on the apex of her legs. “You’ve got an amazing body,” he said.
He was being overly generous. She had an okay body and a better-than-average sense of self-confidence. She’d learned long ago that men could be pretty well impressed by any woman who stood tall and acted proud of what she had, regardless of her imperfections. And one of the most important things stripping had taught her, surprisingly, was that self-confidence was the sexiest attribute a woman could have.
“Thanks,” she said, going for the bottle of raspberry syrup.
She unscrewed the top and climbed up on the counter, then straddled Drew, who was sitting on a bar stool. When her breasts were mere inches from his mouth, she tilted the syrup bottle over them and let the liquid drip onto one nipple, then the other.
A whoosh of breath expelled from Drew’s chest. “Damn it, woman…”
It was the first time she’d heard him use profanity.
“You don’t like raspberry?”
“I love it,” he whispered, then took one of her nipples into his mouth and began to suck.
Warm fuzzies spread from her breasts to her crotch, as Drew’s hands traveled up her inner thighs. Say what you wanted about his fashion sense, but the man had a way with his hands. His touch, so appreciative and undemanding, left her feeling like a sex goddess, like a woman made for pleasure.
He licked the syrup from her breasts, then moved his kiss to her mouth, standing up from the bar stool and sending it crashing to the floor behind him. He tasted like hot, sweet raspberries, and Cass, with all her smart-ass attitude, couldn’t think of any place she’d rather be than in his arms right then, syrupy sweet as it was.
He pulled her against him and pressed his erection between her legs, rocking his hips lightly and stimulating her where it counted.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, all tenderness and retro charm again.
She realized then that Drew wasn’t really an all-out nerd so much as he was a brainy, old-fashioned guy. But old-fashioned guys needed to get laid, too, right?
“Of course I’m sure. You have protection?”
“Yeah,” he said, then pulled out his wallet and produced a condom. They’d probably need more than one, but she had a stash in her bathroom for later.
His glasses were all steamed up. “Can you see without these?” she said as she removed them.
“Everything’s a little blurry.”
Good, then he wouldn’t notice the tiny flaws that continued to appear on her body the older she got and the longer she spent away from the stage. She set his glasses aside and started unbuttoning his shirt.
He had a nice chest, smooth and kind of firm, with flat pink nipples, and his belly, while it was certainly no six-pack, had its own masculine appeal. There was no way to explain what was so damn attractive about Drew, and she’d be interested to see if she was still as hot for him after they got it on as she was now. Was his appeal hormone-induced or lasting?
It didn’t really matter, though. Because she had to remember, this was sex for sex’s sake.
She opened the fly of his pants and pushed aside his briefs—tighty whities, just as she would have guessed—to find his hard cock waiting for her. Now here was a part of Drew no woman could argue the appeal of. He was thick and long, more th
an enough to satisfy.
She sheathed him with a condom, and he eased himself into her one delicious inch at a time. Slowly at first, they found their rhythm, locked together, taking their time tasting and kissing.
This was just sex, just sex, just sex, she tried to tell herself, but there was no denying how it really felt. No denying that some kind of magic was happening between them.
For the first time in years, Cass felt as though she was being made love to, as though the joining of their bodies was for some other purpose besides an orgasm or two.
And all that unexpected tenderness made her even hotter, so that when he was finally moving frantically in her with their destination in sight, she was right there with him, overcome with too many emotions to name.
He leaned her back on the counter, and bottles of syrup toppled over, rolling off the countertop and shattering on the floor. The uncapped raspberry syrup bottle spilled and created a sticky sweet pool near Cass’s left shoulder, and moments later, when she came, bucking hard against him, she didn’t give a damn that her hair got stuck in the mess.
Drew silenced her cries with a long, soft kiss that ended in his own orgasm. And his breath, his moans, were muffled in her hair until he stilled moments later and looked her in the eyes.
“You’re incredible,” he whispered.
“So are you,” she said.
For once, it wasn’t just pillow talk—or counter talk, in this case. She meant it.
But damn, why couldn’t he have been ordinary or dull or a total asshole? Why was it that when she’d finally found true happiness, the universe decided to hand her the one thing she’d been absolutely sure she didn’t want?
12
ALEX UNDERSTOOD, all too clearly now, that he was a weak, undisciplined man. It was no wonder he hadn’t lasted in the FBI. Put his greatest sexual temptation in front of him, and he couldn’t think of anything else, couldn’t tear his attention away from her.
It was Tuesday afternoon, and his first day’s attempt at pretending he and Yasmine had never happened had been a sad one so far at best.
He peered over the wall of his cubicle and spotted Yasmine across the room. Even the top of her head as she leaned over someone’s computer turned him on. A thousand swimsuit models couldn’t have had the same effect on him that she’d had this weekend, that she continued to have even now when he was supposed to be focusing on updates for the Virtual Bimbo software.
Instead of work, his mind kept circling the memories of their weekend together. An image of the smooth curves of her bare ass up against his hips as he buried his cock inside her, pounding against her again and again, flashed in his head, and he got an erection right there under the glaring fluorescent lights.
Damn it. He shifted in his seat, tugging at his khakis to create some extra room for his wood as he turned away from the guy across the aisle from him.
Even his guilt hadn’t put a damper on his desire for her. But regardless of what his body wanted, he had to put some distance between them. They couldn’t keep going at it like rabbits.
“Hey,” a female voice said from behind him, and Alex turned to see Yasmine standing there.
“Hey, yourself.”
“Can you spare a few minutes in the break room?”
“Sure, what’s up?”
She held her finger to her lips and nodded ever so slightly toward the guy sitting behind her. “Nothing much, just a little issue to clear up.”
Alex watched as she turned and headed away, her tight black skirt revealing long, golden legs accented by a pair of high heels. Guys couldn’t help but stare as she passed, though now, when he got up to follow, they stared at him as well.
A few people had commented on his showing up at the holiday party with Yasmine, but they were the typical guy sort of comments, nothing particularly rude. Now his co-workers looked at him as if he’d just discovered the secret to eternal life and was refusing to share it.
He couldn’t say he blamed them.
Alex opened the door of the break room and entered, letting it swing shut behind him. Inside, the scent of microwave buttered popcorn mingled with the less-distinctive and less-pleasant odors of various frozen and left-over lunches that had been reheated recently. Yasmine was removing a Mountain Dew from the soda machine.
“Why do I feel like this is an illicit meeting?” he asked when she turned to him.
“I just didn’t want anyone listening in. We’re now the number-one fodder for office gossip, and I, for one, don’t think I can take another guy giving me that look today.”
“What look?” But he knew the one she meant.
“That ‘I’m picturing you naked getting it on with one of my co-workers’ look.”
Alex tried not to smile. “I haven’t gotten any looks like that today.”
“Lucky you, but seriously, could you do me a favor and start dispelling the myths?”
“What myths?”
“Come on, now, don’t tell me you haven’t heard.”
“Heard what?”
“Rumors about this weekend are getting out of control. People are saying we did it in a hotel rest room, that we were taking our clothes off as we climbed into the limousine to leave—”
“But we didn’t even take a limo.”
“Exactly.”
Alex gave up his battle with the laughter building inside him. It erupted, and to his surprise, Yasmine laughed along with him.
He’d expected her to be thoroughly pissed off, offended, outraged even. But instead, she laughed deep in her belly as if he’d just told the funniest joke she’d ever heard—until her eyes were watering and her cheeks were a rosy pink. He loved that he couldn’t always anticipate her reactions, and he loved that in the face of possible workplace humiliation, she could laugh.
He wondered if it was her rebellious streak coming out again, enjoying the spectacle they’d created at the same time that her more cautious side yearned to avoid controversy.
“I’m sorry,” he said once she’d gotten control over herself. “I know this is annoying. Where the hell are the crazy rumors coming from?”
“You take all these guys and give them fodder for a fantasy, and what do you expect?”
“Why would they be fantasizing about us together?” he asked.
“It’s more like they’re fantasizing about what might be possible if they’re the lucky guy the next time a holiday office party rolls around.”
“Ah. I see. I’ll make sure I put the rumors to rest.”
“I’m not asking you to lie,” she said, then took a sip of her soft drink.
“It’s okay, really. The last thing I want is to make it hard for you to work here.”
“Thanks. I’ll do what I can to dispel any rumors I hear, too. I didn’t think I cared one way or the other about this stuff, but I can’t stand getting this much attention.”
“Let’s make sure we’ve got our stories matched up. Say we tell everyone I took you home, gave you a chaste kiss on the cheek, and that was the end of it. We’re just friends, and we don’t have any plans to date again.”
But as the words exited his mouth, some crazy part of him wanted to take them back. He didn’t want it all to be over. Didn’t want the hottest affair he’d ever had to have lasted only a weekend.
“That sounds okay, I guess.”
“You guess?”
She gave him a speculative look. “I know we agreed this would be a one-weekend thing, but…”
This was it. This was where he was supposed to tell her that they couldn’t see each other again, that continuing what they’d started would be a mistake.
But would she hear the insincerity in his voice? Would she see it in his eyes?
“Do you really think it’s a good idea to keep this up? I mean, with us working together, and the rumors already running rampant…”
She sighed and flopped down in the nearest metal folding chair. Alex kept his distance, still standing near the door where he was less tempted
to slide his hand up Yasmine’s shirt and under her bra.
“You’re right,” she said. “I knew from the start it was a bad idea.”
“Some bad ideas just have to be tried anyway. And I don’t regret a second of it.”
“So…we just act like this weekend never happened?”
“You okay with that?”
Her gaze traveled from the green plastic bottle she held to him. “Absolutely. It’s really the best way to go.”
Right. It was clean and easy, and it would make living with his guilty conscience a little easier.
So why did his every male fiber protest the idea? Why did he feel like spreading her out on the break table, pushing her skirt up around her waist, and giving the employees of Virtual Active a hell of a lot more to gossip about?
Because his dick had no common sense, that’s why.
Instead, he closed the distance between them and leaned over Yasmine, tilting her chin up with one hand. He’d intended to plant a soft, friendly kiss on her cheek, thank her for everything and vow never to say a word about what they’d done….
But something entirely different happened.
His mouth disobeyed. Refused to make contact with her cheek. Went straight for the cushion of her full lips. And then his tongue launched its own rebellion, probing into her mouth, hungry for the taste of her mingled with Mountain Dew.
Then she was standing up, and his hands were buried in her hair, cupping the back of her head as their mouths completely ignored the vow they’d just made to be nothing more than friendly co-workers.
“Whoa! Sorry to interrupt. I’ll just get my coffee later.”
They broke apart and saw the source of their interruption. Drew was backing out the door with coffee cup in hand, his expression a mixture of embarrassment and interest.
“Um…” Yasmine said, but nothing else came out.
When the break room door had swung shut again, they looked at each other.
“Crap.”
“Yeah,” Alex said, feeling like a jerk. “Sorry.”
“I wasn’t exactly stopping you.”
“You shouldn’t have needed to.”
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